


Noise And Absence Thereof

by katajainen



Series: February Ficlet Challenge 2018 [18]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Context-appropriate sense of threat to life and limb, Gen, No beta - provided as is, Pippin's better ideas, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 07:51:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13759587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katajainen/pseuds/katajainen
Summary: As a foraging trip goes pear-shaped, Merry and Pippin are forced into a less than conventional hide-out.





	Noise And Absence Thereof

**Author's Note:**

> Day 20 of the February Ficlet Challenge, prompt: trapped in the dark.

Loose gravel slips beneath his trainers as they speed past a gutted car and across the parking lot. The chain link fence rattles as Pippin jumps and fails to reach the top rail.

‘No time!’ Merry shouts, to cut through the shuffling feet, the hungry growling cacophony of noise.

Pippin turns and there are so many, and they are almost on them, only– ‘There!’ he points at the heavy dumpster sitting at the corner of the lot, a few-yard dash, they can yet make it…

‘Are you insane?’

Pippin won’t waste his breath to answer that, and Merry doesn’t ask again.

The plastic bags make a strangely rustling _squish_ sound beneath them as they scramble in and pull hard at the metal door until it slides shut.

Not a moment too soon.

The air inside the dumpster is baking hot, and the months-decaying rubbish around them gives off a sweet and musty odour. It’s pitch dark at first, and Pippin blinks and blinks and tries to will away the flickering after-images of sunshine, because it’s worse when he cannot see.

Because every sound from the outside seems to reverberate in their lightless steel shelter: the dragging steps, the panting ragged hissing mimicry of breathing, the relentless muffled thud, thud, thud of soft bodies hitting the sides of the dumpster, and worst of all, the scrabbling, the sound of decaying hands, some mostly fresh, some softening, some worn down to mere nubs of bone in the August heat, all pawing to get at them.

Surely, Pippin thinks, the door is hard to open without intention. Without understanding how doors work. Surely. He scoots away from the faintly-glowing outline, as far as he can, far enough, he hopes, to be out of reach of even the longest arms, if… he tries not to think about that. The metal wall behind him is too warm to lean against, so he huddles down next to it, hugging his knees to his chest.

A moment later Merry crawls to sit beside him. 'You all right?’

‘Yeah,’ Pippin replies in a low voice. Aside from the obvious, but neither of them mentions it. ‘You?’

‘I’m good.’

Neither of them speaks for a long while, not even when the light outside begins to falter. The noise continues without let-up. Pippin thinks how he doesn’t know what serves the dead for memory, or how long it might be, but he knows their only chance is to lay low, as quiet as they can, and hope for something to distract those outside.

His stomach rumbles insistently, and he curls tighter on himself. There’s very little in his backpack; some water and hardtack, a candy bar. That’s why they had been out foraging in the first place. Later, he tries to convince himself. I’ll save it for later.

They might be here awhile.

He must have dozed off, as unlikely as it seems, but he has slept in all sort of strange places in the past few months. The noise has changed. It sounds like fighting now, he hears a gunshot, then two – that’s likely what woke him – footsteps on gravel, something bangs hard against the side of the dumpster and slides off, people are shouting, but that’s mostly _alive_ noise, and as the minutes tick by, the dead noise whittles down and finally disappears entirely.

Pippin gets up to his knees, and the muscles in his legs protest after sitting still for so long, but Merry grabs his arm before he can do anything else. The light outside is now but a silvery gleam around the door, but Pippin thinks he sees Merry shake his head. So they stay put and listen.

There are several people speaking outside, only it doesn’t sound like English. Merry squeezes his arm tighter until he sits back. He’s right, of course. It could be anyone out there, and they have guns. Merry and Pippin only have a knife each.

The sound of their breathing feels obnoxiously loud in the enclosed space. Pippin pinches his mouth shut and tries to breathe through his nose. It only helps a little, he thinks. The voices and footsteps recede, and then he can hear the distant sound of a car starting. Then even that is gone.

They wait, and the light outside fades. It’s quiet.

‘I’ll count to three,’ Merry whispers.

On ‘three’, they yank the door open. It makes an ungodly screech and cool air wafts into their faces. Nothing else happens.

They climb out onto the twilit lot where nothing stirs: the living are long gone, and the dead stay still. Daylight is but a pale golden sliver in the eastern horizon, the sky a deep velvet blue and darkening.

Pippin follows his cousin back the way they came from, past the small-town supermarket, likely emptied out now by whoever it was that put the dead down. But they wouldn’t have time for it now anyway.

‘Up,’ Merry whispers and points at a service ladder. They’re still only a few blocks away from the supermarket, but they’re losing the light. At least the sky is clear, so they won’t get wet.

The rooftop is empty apart from the usual wind-driven debris. They settle down with their backpacks for pillows, and Pippin unwraps the candy bar, his last, and takes a bite. He sighs as the cheap tacky chocolate melts in his mouth. To be alive to taste such sweetness again… that’s a bigger thought than what he has the strength for, at least for now. He offers the other half to Merry, and they each chew slowly as the stars begin to light above them.

There’s no sound but the birds and insects, and you could almost imagine yourself in the countryside somewhere, back in the days when the dead stayed silent. When it was childish to be afraid of the dark and the noises in the night.

**Author's Note:**

> And yeah, before you ask, this spawned from the infamous Glenn-in-a-dumpster scene in TWD -- only I tried to create a scenario that would be at least remotely survivable.


End file.
